Chapter 150
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 150
Chapter Title: This Is My Answer.
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“How did you know what I look like?”
Al-Baghdadi was curious.
They had never met, and there shouldn’t have been any information exchanged about each other. So how could he possibly know his face?
‘I made sure not even Abu Bakar or anyone else could take my picture.’
He waited impatiently, dying to know, but the response he got was utterly ridiculous.
“Just did.”
“What?”
“I just knew.”
Back in his younger days, he might have opened fire right then and there, but Al-Baghdadi had patience.
“You’re trying to provoke me, but it’s pointless. I’m not so green that I’d fall for...”
“Cut the crap and say what you came to say. I’ll give you the chance.”
The arrogance was off the charts, but he held back anyway.
He was the leader of ISIS.
He wasn’t some pushover who’d fall for the enemy’s tricks.
“You’ve got some nerve. To act this cocky in front of so many people.”
“That all you’ve got?”
“The truth is, I answered your summons because I have one proposal to make.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Al-Baghdadi spoke bluntly, without a glance at the surrounding players.
“Join me. Devote yourself to ISIS and serve Allah. Do that, and you won’t have to worry about the next round. No need to tremble in fear. The one true God, Allah, will show you the way.”
“......”
While Ryu Min showed no reaction, Victor—who was hiding in the building and eavesdropping—had to clap a hand over his gaping mouth in shock.
‘W-what did I just hear? He’s asking him to join ISIS?’
In short, Al-Baghdadi was trying to recruit the Black Scythe.
“What do you say? Offer your body to Allah and live eternally.”
“It’d be to you, not Allah. And a tiger doesn’t crawl under a cat, right?”
“A tiger... Do you really think a punk like you measures up?”
“Who knows, maybe not. But one thing’s for sure. The ISIS boss is a rat not even worth a cat. Anyone can see that when he hides behind proxies instead of showing his face.”
“Hah. Gotta give you credit—your mouth’s as big as your skills.”
Al-Baghdadi furrowed his brow, patience finally wearing thin.
“You’re really not coming under me?”
“How many times do I have to say it? You’re not getting it through words? Want me to show you?”
Ryu Min’s scythe flashed in an instant, severing Abu Bakar’s head.
Thud.
The Boko Haram leader was sent to the afterlife in a heartbeat.
“This is my answer, you rat.”
“You never intended to use him as a hostage anyway.”
Al-Baghdadi turned away, as if there was no point in talking further.
“Let’s see if your skills back up that big mouth.”
He slipped into the crowd, and players surged forward to surround him.
“Kill him. Don’t leave a single scrap of flesh.”
At his command, hundreds charged at Ryu Min.
Seeing the armed militants rushing in, Ryu Min smiled beneath his mask.
‘Just as I thought—they only brought players.’
If they’d been regular grunts, he would’ve slaughtered them without mercy. But knowing they were players, he decided to go easy.
‘These guys are basically items. Killing them outright would be a waste.’
The players were lucky.
Ryu Min felt like taking it slow.
* * *
Victor, watching from the building, clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly.
His palms were slick with sweat.
‘It’s finally starting? I’m getting tense just watching.’
He trusted the Black Scythe’s skills, but you never knew.
Variables could pop up.
‘Huh?’
Then he noticed something odd.
Not a single one of the gathered militants held a gun.
They were all in outdated garb, wielding melee weapons.
Victor’s eyes widened as realization dawned.
‘No way—are they all players?’
He wasn’t certain, but there had to be around five hundred of them.
‘So many players devoted to ISIS?’
A chill ran down his spine.
He could barely handle one or two himself, but five hundred?
‘Will the Black Scythe be okay? They’re players, not regular folk?’
He could hear the clang of weapons clashing—ching-ching-ching—but the angle blocked his view.
No way to tell if it was going well.
Victor turned to the East Asian woman who seemed to be the Black Scythe’s ally.
“What’s your name? What’s your name.”
Yamtti understood the simple English and replied.
“Me? Yamtti. My name is Yamtti.”
“Yamtti? Okay, Yamtti. Can the Black Scythe win? What do you think?”
“What’s he saying? Sigh...”
The conversation fizzled out quickly, leaving Yamtti sighing.
“Listen up, alchemist. I know you won’t understand, but I’ll say it anyway since you look anxious. Trust the Black Scythe. There’s nothing we can do to help. We just wait here for the ISIS leader.”
“What? ISIS? You think ISIS might win?”
Victor latched onto the one word he recognized, pressing her, and Yamtti explained hesitantly.
“The Black Scythe said to wait here because he’d deliver the ISIS leader right to us. So don’t worry. Once we nab the ISIS boss, it’s over.”
She told him not to worry, but for some reason, Victor’s expression darkened even more.
* * *
Clang-clang-clang!
Kakang—kangkang!
A barrage of skills rained down on a single target.
No matter how high your level, it should be impossible to dodge attacks pouring in from all sides.
That’s what they thought.
Until they saw it with their own eyes.
‘He’s still holding out?’
Al-Baghdadi checked the time in disbelief.
Five minutes had passed.
He should be dead by now.
Not only was there no corpse, he was still fighting strong.
‘No wonder he’s rank one.’
Al-Baghdadi had brought five hundred out of his eight hundred troops.
All of them players.
‘Players need to fight players.’
Better for the expendable players to die than regular soldiers, he’d figured.
And with this many, he should’ve been able to kill him easily.
That’s what he’d thought at the time.
But now, his mind had changed.
‘Even with this many troops, it’s not enough?’
He knew most were level 40, so the level gap was huge.
But he hadn’t expected hundreds to fail to even scratch one guy.
‘I brought them to recruit if possible, kill if not. And even that’s proving tough.’
This was dangerous.
Letting that guy live.
He had to rip him apart right here, even if it meant sacrificing every last player.
‘At least he seems to be struggling too.’
The enemy was only defending with his scythe, not counterattacking at all.
He looked desperate just to block and dodge.
‘Time’s on our side. He’s human—his stamina isn’t infinite.’
But as the fight dragged on, things weren’t improving.
No casualties at all was the real shocker.
Sure, it was five hundred against one, but there were only so many who could attack at once.
‘Even so, impressive. Dozens attacking simultaneously, and he blocks and evades cleanly.’
With skills like that, he could probably dodge bullets too.
A bullet-dodging player as a subordinate?
Hard not to be tempted.
‘If he’d sworn loyalty to Allah, I would’ve handed him Abu Bakar’s spot on the spot... What a shame.’
He could’ve even pulled off a White House attack, but now he had to kill him here.
‘What now? Gotta kill him, but he’s no pushover.’
As Al-Baghdadi watched the ongoing fight, goosebumps prickled his skin.
He’d locked eyes with the guy midway.
‘He’s got time to glare at me?’
In his shock, it happened.
Stab—stab-stab—stab!
The sound of flesh tearing and weapons piercing.
Sure enough, the Black Scythe had been skewered like a kebab by the other players.
“We killed the Black Scythe!”
The victorious players cheered wildly.
Al-Baghdadi’s eyes bulged.
The guy who’d defended so well this whole time—dead from one moment’s lapse?
‘Because he looked at me?’
His shock turned to a smile.
A potential future threat had been eliminated, luckily.
“Heh heh, rank one my ass—nothing special. What an idiot, getting distracted and dying.”
His face twisted in mockery.
“Gah!”
Someone grabbed the back of his neck.
Yanked by immense force, Al-Baghdadi floated into the air.
Crash!
He smashed through a building window, clutching his waist and groaning.
“Ow...”
It felt like someone had snatched him up and hurled him inside.
“Ugh, what the...”
Then.
Whoosh—
A figure materialized from thin air, and Al-Baghdadi’s face froze.
It was the Black Scythe—the one he thought skewered and dead.
“Black Scythe!”
Seeing Victor and Yamtti light up, Ryu Min grinned.
“Told you. Wait, and I’d deliver.”
He pointed at Al-Baghdadi.
“Dominate him.”
* * *
Watching the Black Scythe take dozens of sword stabs and spray blood, the players smirked.
“Got him—finally killed the infidel.”
“We did it! We killed the Black Scythe!”
They’d pledged loyalty to ISIS even before the world went to hell, reborn as even stronger warriors: players.
God’s soldiers, executing infidels in Allah’s name.
And they’d slain their greatest foe, the Black Scythe.
Smiles bloomed across every face.
But only for a moment.
“Huh?”
The Black Scythe’s corpse vanished like a mirage.
Not even realizing it was a clone, they looked around in confusion, searching for the body.
“What happened?”
“Did someone accidentally use Erase Traces?”
“If you did, fess up!”
They obsessed over finding the corpse.
When they should’ve been tracking Al-Baghdadi—who they missed flying off, too fixated on the Black Scythe.
Then Al-Baghdadi appeared from somewhere.
“What’s the commotion?”
“Ah, Leader.”
As the ISIS leader approached, players lowered weapons and parted like the Red Sea.
“What’s going on? Why all the noise?”
“We took down the Black Scythe just now, but for some reason, the body vanished.”
“So what?”
“Pardon?”
“The body disappearing isn’t the point. What matters is we killed the Black Scythe.”
Al-Baghdadi grinned wide, declaring victory.
“You’ve eliminated our organization’s biggest obstacle. You—the proud warriors of Allah!”
“Wooo!”
“Allah! We’ve cleared another hurdle today! Praise us!”
“Thank you for always watching over us!”
“One step closer to paradise!”
He smiled benevolently, letting them revel, then raised a hand to quiet the crowd.
“Now that the Black Scythe is gone, all that’s left is to carry out our great cause. First, we redistribute items. Everyone, place all equipped gear and inventory items on the ground. Not a single one left out!”
“Yes, sir!”
The ISIS leader’s orders were absolute.
If he said die, they died. Live, they lived. Hand it over, they handed it.
Reasonable enough—they were gathering and redistributing for the upcoming terror plot.
So the players complied.
Dumping equipped gear and emptying inventories clean.
Soon the open space was an item paradise.
Just five hundred sets of gear piled over three thousand pieces.
“Those who’ve dropped items, move to the side!”
Stripped bare, Al-Baghdadi herded them to the adjacent lot.
To prevent any sneaky retrievals.
Because...
“Well done. Now you all have to die.”
“Yes?”
They had to die by the Black Scythe’s hand.
As Al-Baghdadi smirked, a sound rang out from somewhere.
Kiiiiing—
Clear and resonant.
Brilliant light cascaded over the players in waves.